Erlkönig
by firefluff
Summary: Annabeth's first brush with death came when she was seven years old: in the moonlit hour of midnight, she was chased by a mob who attempted her murder. Discovery of her mythical origin hit her hard afterwards. A decade later, she set on a journey to locate her old family and harness the cruel powers she was bestowed with at birth— but then came a boy with eyes of the emerald sea.


**AN (the first): I actually posted this yesterday, but then realized I called the _prologue_ an _epilogue_ (among other mistakes) so I deleted it and now I'm re-uploading it (obviously) :)**

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 _Prologue_

 **ten years ago—nine years of age**

The surrounding foliage was blurred both by the soft contours of nightfall and the frantic pace of the little grey-eyed girl. Crude words sounded in the distance behind her, coming from raspy voices that were no strangers to smoking cigarettes. The small heart inside her chest fluttered rapidly.

She had admired the star-speckled sky so many times in the past, but now it looked like the heavenly hosts were watching her as they blinked their disapproval against the inky blue-black sea. The moon itself was uncommonly bright, lighting the way for her even as it created dark, bewildering shadows against the ground. She never felt such loneliness in her short life before.

That's when she heard it—soft whooing imitations of an owl call, coming from the leaves to her right. Her father (right after he had yanked her out of bed, bundled her up, and shoved her out the door of the small farm they lived in) told her to keep an ear out for that specific noise and follow whoever was making it. _Sweetie,_ _I'll be right behind you. The person we're meeting will take care of us._

Annabeth was too fuzzy with sleep to properly process anything and too confused to ask any questions, except—"What time is it?"

The answer came, as if from a distance. "It's very late, sweetheart. Twelve."

Then the crisp midnight air bit her face as she half-fell out the door. The disorienting shouts, coming from a mob of angry farmers ( _was that her uncle she heard?)_ and her father's panicked, "Run for the forest—you can't let them get to you. I'll go after you, honey," sent her racing across the fields.

It wasn't so much the _words_ (even though there was plenty of that) but the _tone_ mixed with the _situation_ that made her go nearly blind with terror. Frederick Chase was never afraid.

By then, questions started swirling around her head ( _why do we need taking care of what's happening what about mother and Bobby and Matthew are we in danger yes of course we are don't be stupid but-what's-happening)._ Her legs stuttered to a stop.

When she turned around, her father wasn't there.

Cold, stony fear shot through her. Her body paralyzed and she started wailing ( _PAPA WHERE ARE YOU I'M SCARED WHERE ARE YOU PAPA)_

But then there was a startled raise in the mob's volume, and she heard them crash in her direction.

She swallowed her words. Then forced her legs to move again. Then started tearing for the trees, half-hysterical, scared quarter-way to death ( _is that really my uncle why is he after me does he not know it's me?),_ confused, and angry. Where did father go? Did he leave her?

Why her? What did that big mass of shadow-people silhouetted against the night sky want with her?

She never did anything wrong in her life, except maybe—maybe—that one time she faked sickness to get out of her chores, and things like being chased by a mob only happened to bad people. She wasn't bad. She loved both of her parents and her siblings (even if her little brother said once with a slight jealousy-tinged voice that their father liked her a teensy-weensy bit more because she looked so different from the rest of the family, and because she was—her brother's words, not hers—so smart and logical). She did as she was told (except _maybe_ that one time with the chores), and she didn't wish anyone ill.

So why her?

When she heard the owl cries, she nearly fainted in relief. Here was a connection to her papa, who would send someone good to take care of her and who was now gods-know-where. Her earlier anger towards him had given way to worry as she began to rationalize to herself. _He would never leave me on purpose. Ever. (Although—where are Bobby and Matthew? Where's mother? When did he have time to establish a way to meet with this person? Did he know this would happen?)_

Unable to think of an answer and too fatigued to really care at the moment, she stumbled after the sound, sweaty despite the chilly air and out of breath. The _whooing_ moved further and further away, forcing her to follow it deeper into the trees. Soon, the moonlight could barely penetrate the thick canopy, and the silver slivers that managed to filter through the leaves shone in tiny pinpricks at her feet. She could've sworn they felt like needles that were piercing through her ratty shoes and going straight to her toes.

The noise of pursuit just about vanished when she entered a dense area of the wood. Exhausted now, the change barely registered with her.

She tripped over several branches littered on the ground, dusted herself off, and got back up. Desperation to reach the safety of whoever her papa told her about was taking over. Firstly, because she assumed she would be safe afterwards, but secondly, because she was desperate to cling to the words her absent father had left her with.

Then—briefly— the sight of blonde hair foliage tugged at the edge of her vision before it disappeared, and she realized she had been nearing the owl imitations. Spirits slightly lifted now, her legs were made to stagger faster after the sound.

She managed to get a few more footsteps in. Mind was fighting against body for control over the weariness that stole through her small frame, and the blood in her veins ran sluggishly from her heart to her limbs.

Suddenly (or perhaps not so suddenly) she felt herself go woozy. Her knees buckled and she fell.

* * *

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was the cave she was in, and the flickering torchlight that threw swirling shadows around her— so similar to the moonlit dimness from before. The second thing she noticed was the blonde hair. In the semi-darkness of the cave, it almost seemed like it was glowing, sucking the light from around her and turning it into individual threads of spun gold.

When the shimmering, yellow head of hair turned around, she was greeted with eyes as overcast as her own.

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 **AN (the second): ahhhhh LOL this is the first time I've written something in a loong time, so my writing's super rusty. I'm kinda experimenting with a new style- so I figured, _why not post it online_? ((many reasons, I suppose, but oh well)) Also, I'm not sure if the first category for this should be adventure, action, or suspense?**

 **(The title for this is taken from a poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, in case anyone is wondering, by the way).**

 **Side note- this is only the prologue, so it's a little short. The chapters will contain a lot more after this!**

 **Feedback would be great ;')**


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